


French Howler

by DValkyrie



Category: Fleurmione - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 11:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4347425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DValkyrie/pseuds/DValkyrie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Ron find out what Hermione did the previous night. Fleurmione One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	French Howler

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own anything, all rights go to original owners.

Hermione had never been late to anything in her life by herself. On occasion, she’d get caught up with Harry and Ron’s doings, but by herself she was always on time or earlier. She also never left a class early unless it was a _dire_ emergency. Her timing was always perfect; she never slept in, she was always awake before her friends, she always attended class, and always managed to get a decent amount of sleep.

So naturally, Harry and Ron were uneasy about Hermione not being in the Gryffindor common room on Sunday morning. The two boys had woken at 10, then trudged down to the common room for a drink before planning on going to the great hall for breakfast. Hermione always met them there, dressed and ready for the day. They would have their morning drinks, then set off.

But Hermione was not there.  
  
“Has Hagrid shrunk? Snape washed his hair? Has Malfoy become _tolerable?_ ” Ron was breathless at the absence of their female friend. Harry rubbed the back of his head, confused as well. This wasn’t like Hermione at all. She was _always_ here.   
  
“Maybe she went down to breakfast early?” Harry shrugged, taking a swig of his tea. Ron mumbled and sat down in one of the crimson armchairs. Hermione had told them last night that she would be heading to the library to tutor someone. She didn’t say who, so after Ron nagged her to spill the beans, she huffed off with a blush creeping onto her cheeks.   
  
“Maybe the tutoring session finished late and she’s catching up on some sleep?” Harry offered, and it was Ron’s turn to shrug.   
  
“Doubt it. ‘Mione is rather determined to get _some_ sleep. If anything, she’s probably at some class she takes for more marks or something.”  
  
“It’s a Sunday, Ron,” Harry deadpanned, sitting in the chair beside him. Ron was about to make another point, but a pair of footsteps descended into the nearly deserted common room.  
  
“Ah, the lady of the hour!” Harry grinned as Hermione walked towards them. His face fell as the two boys looked at their friend.   
  
Hermione’s eyes were bloodshot red, and her hair was even more of a tangled mess than usual. Her face was pale and clammy, with swear forming at her brow and dampening her hair. The girl wore her grey skirt, and her white shirt buttoned up to her breasts, which were teetering on the edge of sticking out. The shirt was crumpled, and she didn’t have her tie on. Her neck was covered in small red patches, easily visible despite the white collar of her shirt being stuck up in an attempt to hide them. Hermione hissed at the sunlight, and held up her hands in an attempt to shield herself.  
  
“You okay there, Dracula?” Ron raised an eyebrow as Harry stood up to get his friend some tea. Hermione’s response was a groan while she flopped into a chair and hid her face in her hands.   
  
“Wow, ‘Mione, what happened?” Harry asked softly, handing her the cup.   
  
Another groan.  
  
“It’s tea, just take it,” Ron muttered, and Hermione lifted her head, and took the cup off Harry.   
  
“Thanks,” she mumbled, taking a sip. She then raised her free hand up to her head and scrunched up her face.   
  
“This bloody headache, I cannot believe it,” she hissed as Harry and Ron exchanged looks with each other.   
  
“What do you mean-”  
  
“I cannot believe I let myself go,” Hermione cut Harry off with another wince of pain. Ron raised an eyebrow as he set his mug down.   
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“It was the…tutoring last night,” Hermione grumbled, but Harry noticed she caught herself halfway through her response.  
  
“Who were you tutoring? And how does that have to do with _this_?” He gestured up and down her body, and Hermione opened her eyes, the red had gone away slightly, but they watered at the late morning light.  
  
“Can you two…keep a secret?” she whispered hoarsely, and the boys nodded. Hermione had kept her mouth shut about all of the shenanigans they had gotten up so, so they had no reason to tell anyone.  
  
However, both were shocked by what Hermione said next.  
  
“I’ve been seeing someone.”  
  
Ron nearly choked on his drink as Harry’s eyebrows flew up into his jet black hair.   
  
“Is it Krum?” Ron asked at once, knowing that the Bulgarian had fancied her ever since they met at the start of the year. Hermione, however, shook her head.   
  
“No, it’s not Krum...” she started to explain with her left hand gripping her hair, but she was interrupted by an owl that flew into the common room from the girl’s dormitory stairwell. It was a gorgeous creature, with its feathers tinged with black and grey.   
  
“What the-” Ron didn’t finish his question as the owl perched itself on the top of Hermione’s chair and stuck out its leg. Hermione raised an eyebrow, but as the owl glared at her, she took the envelope out of its talons.   
  
“Did you buy an owl last night, ‘Mione?” Harry grinned, but Hermione shook her head.   
  
“No,  I was…in the library for a bit of last night.”  
  
“A _bit?!”_ Ron was coughing down his drink as Hermione examined the neat, light blue envelope in a perfect square shape was held between her first and third finger. Hermione stared dumbly at it, as thought she had no idea what it was.   
  
“…Are you going to open it?”  Harry asked, sipping his tea as Hermione huffed. She started to open the letter, but what came next made everyone in the room jump.   
  
“ _Dearest ‘Ermione.”_  
  
Hermione shrieked in shock at the volume of the voice, and dropped the letter onto her lap. The few others in the common room also snapped upright from the sudden sound. Ron and Harry recognized the letter at once – it was a howler. The enveloped floated into the hair and the wax seal turned into a pair of lips.

 _“To be completely honest, I ‘ad expected better of you. Eet az been months- MONTHS – since we started to share zmall moments togezer in various parts of ze castle, MONTHS since you started to kiss me in ze ‘Ogwarts and Beauzbatons libraries, and last night was ze best time to get drunk off nettle wine during our private time?!”  
  
_ The voice was amplified so that everyone in the tower could hear the letter. Hermione could catch glimpses of the writing being in English, but the accent-  
  
“Oh sweet mother of Merlin,” Harry’s jaw dropped as he recognized the voice. Ron was still confused as he clamped his hands over his ears.   
  
_“Do not get me wrong, you are utterly adorable when you are intoxicated, but for Merlin’s sake, if we are going to ‘ave such penetrative and uphoric sex, maybe you shouldn’t jump right in to my nether regions in ze middle of the Beauzbatons carriage, hm?!”  
  
_ Ron caught on and turned as white as snow. People were starting to look at Hermione, who rested her head on her left hand and scrunched up her eyes, in pain from the loud, French accent.  
  
“You _boinked_ a girl from Beauxbatons?!”   
  
_“After ze first orgasm you gave me, I ‘ad to carry you to my room and cast one of ze most powerful silencing charms I ‘ave ever done in my life!”  
  
_ Hermione was shrinking into her chair, with her hands covering her face. Harry was in awe, and made a mental note to try and be around when Hermione did this again.  
  
_“’Owezer, with all of zis in ze past. Thank you for such a lovely night, perhaps I would ‘ave enjoyed it more if you were not completely wasted. If you wished to do so again, you know where to meet me.”_

The howler blew Hermione a kiss, then threw itself into the fire place.   
  
Harry had gone quiet, blinking at his friend. Ron had paled so drastically he could pass as a ghost. Hermione looked down at her feet, shaking from embarrassment, and the other lions in the common room started to snigger and talk about what had just happened.  
  
“You, Hermione Granger, got drunk and had sex with Fleur Delacour?” Ron could barely speak, and Hermione let out a groan.  
  
“We didn’t have sex,”  
  
“She wrote that you gave her an orgasm, that happens when you have sex,” Ron continued in a lifeless attempt to speak. The brunette simply curled up into a ball and started to wish she could apparate.   
  
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with it,” Harry joined the conversation after mentally processing what had happened.   
  
“But I think it could be good for you, ‘Mione. Having Fleur and all…”  
  
Hermione just let out a sigh and brought her knees down from the chair. Her face was scarlet, and her eyes were still sensitive from the nettle wine she had consumed the night before.  
  
“I’m going to bed,” she mumbled, then picked herself up and trudged up the stairs in shame.  
  
“If anything, you should be _proud!_ ” Harry ginned after her.  
  
“Y-Yeah!” Ron joined in, his voice splitting.   
  
“It’s an achievement! You fucked Fleur Delacour!”  
  
Hermione didn’t respond verbally. Instead, she blasted Ron out of his chair.


End file.
